The Gray Man Novels & Stories

Across the street, standing perfectly still among the gathering crowd, was an elderly man in a dark coat with Gray hair and Piercing blue eyes. The same face I had seen only hours earlier in Alexander's confidential file. **Ethan Graves.** He smiled. Then he tipped his hat... before disappearing into the crowd.

Liam bellowed. "Um, we don't know yet, sir. Mrs. Casper said she heard a racket in the yard and saw a lady in the house through the windows. So far, we've found nothing." One of the officers answered him. Why are we out in the open where everyone could see me? She thought. Disguise or no, isn't this dangerously close? The mystery man let go of her hand and opened the passenger door to the black Camaro in the drive. Oh! He's the next-door neighbor! No wonder he looked familiar. She finally realized.

The letters kept coming and coming. Though the further it went, the more clues people started to get about what The Silent Man might look like. In each letter he sent in every house, he left the color of his eyes, his weight, or easy things like his hair color. Every time people got those clues, they would take it to Sheriff Issac.

Until now. Shifting into drive, I hit the gas a little harder than intended. Gravel tumbles underneath the tires, keeping me from moving for a second before the Volvo takes off. I manage to turn around, easing up on the gas and finally hitting pavement to pass the cemetery gates. It's still pitch black outside but I'm beyond positive it shouldn't be. I've been gone for hours. This is insane. Nothing makes sense. The Watchman. My dead brother-at least I think it's him-back from the dead.

she replied with a smug smile which vanished from her face 2 seconds later as I stood before her ready to end her life. My canines and eyes were obvious indications of what I was about to do to her. I was pleased with the fear on her face before tearing open her carotid artery. I casually sat by and watched her bleed to death, I took care of the body and I buried her myself but in front of me, laying on this very bed was a young girl very identical to her.

“Do you… Do you believe him?” “I’ll know better what to think in a few days when we’ve talked some more,” the doctor confessed wryly. ‘Well... Now I’m here to ask you how to get in touch with this fellow… He’s French or something… Maurice… No, Moreau I think is his name…” “Christophe?” Lara gasped. “Do you think he’d see me? I want to tell him that Kenneth needs criminal charges right now like he needs a hole in the head!” Sam Elliott delivered grimly.

I have a pale skin and I hate it! I hate that I easily embarrass myself. I could feel myself frown and stare at the ground. I hate that my parents bring people over it gets me uncomfortable and I just don't like it at all. I wonder what his name is, or why he's even here, I've never seen him before, where did my dad even find him? "It's nice to meet you Charlotte, I'm Elijah." His voice was rougher than I had thought, I couldn't help the feeling it caused. And I felt ashamed for it, clearing my throat I quickly looked up at him and smiled before moving away from him.

I manage to black out the visual image painted in my head by the thought. Finally we arrive at a white manor at the end of the street. We walk up the stairs of the porch. Rhia knocks at the door, and an old man with gray hair, wearing what look like boxers and a vest, opens the door. There is a huge brown stain on his cream vest. I feel my brows come together at how the scrawny old man looks so unkempt and dirty. When was the last time the greasy man took a bath? His gray hair sticks to his forehead and I am sure the hair is as greasy as it looks.

grey man kneeled in front of them. “Tell me all the man who sent you to spy on us?” He asked. This is all about spying matter again? “No. No! We are just simple citizens of Colter Society.” Mr. Grey man laughed without humour in his tone, and the time he stopped laughing, he smashed his gun to the head of the poor man. The man cried out in pain now and fell to the ground. His son cried again and approached his father, who was on the ground and could not sit or even stand.

"Many would do anything for a chance to see a Gorgon's panties." The voice came from behind, who ever it was must have slipped in the second Mad Greg stepped out. "Why?" He inquired upon his decision of rejecting Madelyn. Adrian had to look over his shoulder to find him, an insecure, nerdy male, slender with white snickers and a fairly faded denim jacket, wood brown khaki, and a baseball cap. He seemed lonely, not just a no-friend loneliness, he was the empty library kind: the last book you find on the shelf, with the title "how to treat a fresh wound": everybody knows about it, but nobody cares to have it.